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by flowersforgraves



Series: BTHB [26]
Category: Fake AH Crew (Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 08:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Jeremy needs rescuing.





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**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from a friend: non-consensual touching + FAHC!Jeremy
> 
> Card: [here on Imgur](https://imgur.com/VtOGzNh) // List of claimed prompts: [here on Tumblr](https://flowersforgraves.tumblr.com/post/184817489731/)
> 
> Prompt me via Dreamwidth or Tumblr!

Jeremy twists his head away, trying to avoid being touched. It’s a shitty move, and somehow he must have let his very real discomfort show, because now the guys are purposely getting in his space. He tries not to flinch -- he’s a broad-shouldered, muscled guy, he looks like he can take care of himself, and right now that’s the only thing keeping him relatively safe -- but it’s fucking hard, because he does _not_ want to be touched.

A hand slides over his shoulder and down his arm. Another grips his hair ( _gotta shave it now_ , Jeremy thinks vaguely, disappointed) and tugs his head backward. Someone is sliding a hand up under his shirt from behind him, and he tenses involuntarily. Another set of fingers are working at his belt buckle, and for once he wishes it were smaller, that he hadn’t committed so thoroughly to Rimmy Tim. His breath comes fast and shallow; he’s shaking with the effort of keeping still. 

A flash of teeth in the light -- he hasn’t suppressed it well enough. The guys surround him, press close to him, and it’s all he can do to focus on keeping the panic at bay. Jeremy wants to go home. He wants to go home and sleep wrapped up in Matt’s blanket. He wants to go home and hear Michael yelling at his gaming console. He wants to go home and build a pillow fort out of their sectional sofa with Geoff. He wants to go home and drink hot cocoa with Ryan pressed close to him.

Except it’s not Ryan whose dick is pressing against his leg, and it’s not Michael screaming, and it’s not Matt he can smell on these clothes, and there’s no sofa and no Geoff, and Jeremy is so very alone. His nose is full of the smell of blood and sweat, and there are hands all over him -- hands under his shirt, over his face, between his legs, and he’s holding himself so still. He won’t allow them to make him beg, but _goddamn_ he’s close.

Whoever has been playing with his jeans has finally gotten through and removed his belt. They’re clumsily fidgeting with the button when someone slams the door open. It’s just a silhouette, broad shoulders and gently curling hair and two handguns, but it’s enough for Jeremy to let out a relieved, if hysterical, laugh. He’s safe, now.

“Get your goddamn hands off him,” Jack says. Her voice is pleasant, as far as that goes when she’s barely keeping a hold on her temper. “Now.”

They step away, leaving Jeremy standing alone in the center of the room.

She nods at him. “Get your belt on. Mogar has a car outside.”

Jeremy obeys, moving fast enough he can almost forget his hands are shaking, and slips out of the building behind Jack. He wipes blood from his nose, and scans for Michael’s face through the windows of the few cars parked on the road. He doesn’t turn around when he hears rapid gunshots, and he doesn’t pretend he’s alright when Jack shoves him into the car, and Michael guns the engine because Jeremy just wants to go home.


End file.
